


Untitled Harry Potter/Witcher Crossover

by Tazzy_Ladynero



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Gen, not in order, other characters to be added - Freeform, part of a larger story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 06:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11285445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tazzy_Ladynero/pseuds/Tazzy_Ladynero
Summary: The Witchers are the Boogeymen of the Wizarding World."Be careful what you do and say,Or else the Witchers will steal you away."A  warning all wizarding children are taught at an early age. So what happens when the Boy Who Lives becomes a Surprise Child, twice over?





	1. Gun

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still going through the first game, and it's been a few months since I read my last Witcher novel, so if the characterization is off, just chalk it up to living so long.

Title: Swords vs Guns  
Author: Tazzy/Ladynero  
Fandom: Witcher/Harry Potter  
Characters: Hadrian, Geralt of Rivia, Eskel  
Genre: Crossover  
Word Count: 987  
Warning: None

“I don’t understand,” huffed little Hadrian James Potter as he frowned at the heavy practice sword Geralt had given him to use. “Why can’t we just use guns to take down the monsters? A couple of bullets and they’re dead.”

Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf who was a legend among Witchers themselves, chuckled and motioned for his apprentice to follow him. “A very good question, and one all apprentices seem to ask when starting their sword lessons,” he remarked, humor evident in his voice. “Let me show you the reason.”

Hadrian had to walk quickly to keep up with his mentor, but he didn’t mind. Geralt just had that much longer of a stride, and he often forgot that not everyone had legs as long as his. Hadrian knew it was a true honor to be taught how to be a Witcher by Geralt himself, everyone said so. Even the other apprentices were jealous that *he* was the one chosen by Geralt to learn from him. Even though he was Geralt’s “Surprise Child”, like Miss Ciri had been.

They passed several people who were going about their own businesses as well as a group of apprentices with their own swords slung over their shoulders as they rushed to the courtyard and the posts. Hadrian shivered, partially in dread and partially in excitement. Being Geralt’s apprentice meant he had his own time on the posts, and depending on who was with him depended on if he actually enjoyed himself or not. There was one apprentice, Franklin, who went out of his way to make training difficult for Hadrian whenever they were together, tripping him, tangling Hadrian’s sword, or even occasionally hiding his things when Hadrian needed them.

Unfortunately for Franklin, Kaer Morhen was a Witcher stronghold, and there were no secrets that couldn’t be found out sooner or later even without an apprentice talking to an adult. Geralt had asked Hadrian why he had never come to Geralt with the problems he was having with Franklin. Hadrian had shrugged and pointed out that as a Witcher, he couldn’t decide who he did and did not want to work with. Especially when he was starting out as there was always the chance that he’d have to team up with someone he disliked to fulfill a contract. Geralt had shown his appreciation for Hadrian’s adult attitude by giving his apprentice a few more alchemical recipes to learn beyond the ones he had already mastered.

Geralt pushed open the door to the armory, and Hadrian hurried in, looking around with awe as the apprentices were rarely allowed in the armory without supervision. Too easy to get into trouble around all the sharp objects was the main excuse the older people gave, but Hadrian figured they didn’t want the apprentices to accidentally kill each other while playing with the various weapons in there. 

“Thought you’d be in the courtyard at the posts,” drawled Eskel, and Hadrian jumped only slightly as the other Witcher emerged from a shadowy corner. The sight of that horribly scarred face had scared Hadrian when he was little, but now it was actually comforting. As one of Geralt’s friends, Eskel had also helped with Hadrian’s training when he wasn’t overseeing the other apprentices. 

“Hadrian asked about guns,” Geralt remarked, sharing a look with Eskel who grinned, the scars that ran down the right side of his face turning the expression into a sort of grimace instead of one of humor. “So, I decided to show him.”

“Asking earlier than the others,” Eskel mused, falling into step to walk with them even as his golden cat-eyes examined Hadrian. Geralt simply hummed before pausing in front of a locked cage that held a multitude of handguns on display. Unlocking the cage, he removed one of the guns and a magazine that he slid into the handle before he walked through another door at the far end of the armory. Hadrian didn’t ask what was going on as he hurried after Geralt. His mentor could sometimes be a man of few words but the explanation was always obvious in the end.

There were rows set up with paper sheets at the end of each one, and Hadrian watched as Geralt stepped up to a shelf, raised the gun, and started firing. It was rather loud and exciting for a boy whose only experience in something explosive before this had been the Signs, but it was over far too quick as there were no further noises from the gun after the third one. Geralt did a few things with the gun before walking over to Hadiran to show it off. In the handle of the gun was three distinct grooves that had warped it badly, making it look rather squished instead of square.

“Between the recoil and the automatic instinct to hold the gun tighter to keep the aim on target, Witchers aren’t exactly built to use guns,” Geralt explained, an amused smile as Hadrian carefully reached out and ran a finger along those grooves. “After a bit, the magazine is warped enough that bullets can’t be fed to the firing mechanism nor can it be ejected for a new one.”

“Which renders the gun useless unless you throw it at someone,” Hadrian concluded with a nod of understanding. “Still be kinda cool to take a gun to a manticore or a cockatrice instead of swinging a sword at it.”

“Maybe, but they have thick hides, and a sharp sword with a strong arm behind it could behead either of those more easily than trying to shoot it in the eye or heart,” countered Geralt.

“Message received, sir,” sighed Hadrian, shaking his head. “I’ll be out at the posts until dinner.” Never let it be said he couldn’t take a hint when it came to training. But he couldn’t wait to tell the other apprentices about the demonstration he just witnessed.


	2. Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt thinks about his Surprise Child.

Title: Heavy Thoughts  
Author: Tazzy/Ladynero  
Fandom: Witcher/Harry Potter  
Characters: Geralt of Rivia  
Genre: Crossover  
Word Count: 559  
Warning:Unbeta’ed

Sitting in a window of Kaer Morhan, the White Wolf was carefully cleaning his steel sword of the oils, grease, blood, and potions that had built up on the surface during his latest contract hunt. His hands were going through the motions, digging into the grooves to get the last bit of grime out, but his thoughts were on a minor issue that was before him.

Over the course of his long life, Geralt of Rivia had several Surprise Children as apprentices, but not since Ciri was he questioning his decision to invoke the Law of Surprise. A rare few survived their Trial of Grasses to go on to become full Witchers, but so many couldn’t survive the changes their bodies underwent. It was a simple fact in the path to becoming a Witcher. But his latest apprentice and Surprise Child was given to him twice over, something that had never happened before that any Witcher could think of since the start of the School of the Wolf.

Hadrian James Potter, gifted through the Law of Surprise when Geralt rescued Lily Potter and Petunia Evans when both ladies had been pregnant and Petunia had been unable to pay him for his service. Gifted again when the Flamelles entrusted him with the raising and protection of the boy at the request of their protege and her husband, James Potter. While Geralt might huff and growl at words like “destiny” and “prophecy”, even *he* could tell when there was something bigger at work.

Yet, the boy held important titles in the Magical World which were also recognized by the Queen of England. While he could go through Witcher training as an apprentice, should he survive the Trials, then he would be ineligible for those titles, a problem since he is the last of his house. A situation that Queen Elizabeth II had already informed them that she wished Hadrian to be old enough to inherit his titles and perhaps fathering a few children before he considered becoming a full Witcher. The simplest solution would be to simply deny Hadrian a place among the Witchers, give him over to his godfather Sirius Black to raise, and forget all about the boy.

Geralt snorted and exchanged the steel sword for his silver one, fingers already reaching for a new cloth and the jar of cleaner to dig the buildup from the runes engraved in the surface. He was overthinking this whole situation like usual. His long deceased friend, Dandelion, would have teased him about being “unfeeling” while mentally writing out a ballad about the Witcher and the Lost Princeling. 

Geralt simply had to train Hadrian as a Witcher, give him all the advantages Geralt could possibly give him, and when he was older and fathered a few children, could be approached again to see if he wished to undertake the Trial of Grasses. Any titles could be passed down to his children, and should he survive, Kaer Morhen would gain another, powerful Witcher.

If Hadrian decided against going through the Trials, then he would reimburse them for the resources and time spent on his early training while being slotted into the Hit Wizard program of the ICW. Perhaps even promise one of his children to the Witchers to take his place in the Trials.It had happened before and would undoubtedly happen again.


	3. Suvival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simple training takes a turn for the worst.

Title: Surviving  
Author: Tazzy/Ladynero  
Fandom: Witcher/Harry Potter  
Characters: Harry Potter, Franklin, Tessa  
Genre: Crossover  
Word Count: 970  
Warning:Unbeta’ed

Gripping his sword, Hadiran spun back the way he had run, needing to make sure the rest of the apprentices made it into the cave before the chort found them again. He was *very* thankful that it was just a chort instead of a fiend or they wouldn’t have even made it to this cave. A fiend was enough to give a fully trained Witcher second thoughts about engaging in a fight. As apprentices who had been out tracking a wolf pack for training purposes, they would have been dead before any had a chance to scream.

With the last apprentice inside, Hadrian quickly pulled brush in front of the entrance, doing what he could to disguise it after carving the Witcher symbol for “help” in a nearby tree with a dagger from his boot. If anyone from Kaer Morhen was out looking for them, this would help. One last glance around, and he ducked into the cave, not even rustling the leaves on the brush.

“Status,” Hadrian demanded, his voice soft as he looked around at the other five apprentices. A faint frown crossed his face when he realized Franklin was favoring a leg. Either a pulled muscle or sprain, but either way, it would slow them down should they have to run again. 

“Mostly scrapes and bruises,” Tessa announced, her own voice soft as she rose from where she had been crouched. “Franklin has a twisted knee but can move if he has to.”

Hadrian nodded before he sighed. “Lost my pack when the chort showed up,” he confessed with a slight shrug. He had thrown it at the monster to distract it and give them all a chance to run. Not the most intelligent action, but at the time, it had seemed like a good idea. “What do we have for supplies?”

“Who put you in charge?” demanded Franklin, leaning against the wall and glaring at Hadrian with his arms folded. “I’m the oldest among us so I should be in charge.”

“Do you have a plan to get out of this?” Hadrian asked, reigning in his own temper in the face of his personal bully’s antagonism. Uncle Sirius had apologized once and explained that Hadrian had inherited the Black Temper in the blood adoption that had made Hadrian his heir. He gestured back towards the cave entrance. “Because personally, I would love to be out of the area before that thing finds us.”

“You think you’re so special just because you’re the White Wolf’s apprentice!” snarled Franklin, pushing away from the wall to limp over to Hadrian and lean down into his face. “Well, you’re not gonna live to see your Trials!”

“I don't care what you have against me, but right now there's a chort out there,” Hadrian stated, not backing down from the other boy. “And we don't have any potions, bombs, or even training to take it on. We need to survive long enough for help to arrive.”

“*You* don't have any of those things,” taunted Franklin, pulling a stone vial out of his hip pouch to wave it in Hadrian’s face. He gagged slightly at the scent of rotten meat, iron, and alcohol even as his brain raced to identify where he had smelled that combination before. It had been in the laboratory while he had been helping Geralt and Uncle Severus…

“With this, I'll be able to take on the monster and rescue us from the situation you got us in,” continued Franklin with a superior smirk. “Then Geralt will have to take me as his apprentice.”

*This highly toxic potion will turn the blood of a Witcher deadly to vampires and necrophages,* Geralt’s voice echoed in his ear, and Hadrian felt his blood run cold as he watched Franklin pop the top of the vial. *Black Blood isn't to be trifled with.*

Lashing out with a hand, Hadrian knocked the vial out of Franklin's hand with a snarl. “Black Blood only works against necrophages and vampires. Not chorts. All you would do is get yourself killed due to the toxic level of that potion. Even Geralt makes sure to have White Honey on hand whenever he has to use potions.”

He poked Franklin in the chest as he growled in the other boy’s face. “If this is your idea of a plan, I feel sorry for anyone stuck with you out in the forest,” Hadrian stated before turning his back on Franklin to retrieve the stone vial. He grabbed the cork and popped it back in before scruffing his foot over what had spilled out, trying to muddle the Black Blood as much as possible. No sense in leaving it for another to suss out Witcher secrets. “I don’t care *what* your problem with me is, but right now, you’re going to shut up and follow orders.”

Ignoring Franklin for the moment, Hadrian glanced around at the others. “Tessa, you and Jacob scout for us. You’re both small, fast, and quiet. Yasha and Thomas, help Franklin and make sure he gets back to Kaer Morhen.”

“What about you, Hadiran?” Tessa asked, dark eyes wide with fear but determination was starting to bleed into them now that there was a plan and someone willing to give them directions.

“I’m going to be bait for anything out there that tries to stop us,” Hadrian announced, loosening his sword in its scabbard across his back while making sure the knife in his boot was where he could get it. “If we get separated, head straight to Kaer Morhen. Don’t come back for me or try to find me.”

“What will happen to you?” Tessa asked even as Franklin spat out curses and snarls.

Hadrian tossed them a smirk as he moved to the front of the cave. “I’m a survivor. I’ll be fine.”


	4. Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciri and Geralt go hunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one comes a few hours after the previous chapter.

Title: On the Trail  
Author: Tazzy/Ladynero  
Fandom: Witcher/Harry Potter  
Characters: Harry Potter, Geralt of Rivia, Ciri  
Genre: Crossover  
Word Count: 840  
Warning:Unbeta’ed

Geralt raced through the forest with Ciri at his side, his heart hammering in his chest as he thought about what the group of apprentices minus one had blurted out when they had stumbled back through the gates of Kaer Morhen. A chort had stumbled across them during their tracking exercise and now one of their number was still out there. Geralt and Ciri had grabbed a couple of potions and some bombs before racing out to find Hadrian. Tessa had managed to give them a general idea of where they had been separated from Hadrian who had managed to lead the chort away from them by causing a huge ruckus and letting them slip back to Kaer Morhen.

Words were unnecessary as they went. They had been hunting together for so long that they could practically read each other’s minds. She knew when to duck low to come in under his sword swing, and he instinctively reached out to grab her hand a few seconds before the world warped around them as she folded time and space with her magic. Between one step and the next, they covered a couple of miles easily, and Geralt frowned in confusion. This was farther out than he would have suspected any of the apprentices could have made it in such a short time, even with as injured as Franklin had been. There must be another reason why Hadrian was out this far.

And he didn’t doubt his missing apprentice was out here. Ciri and Hadrian had a special bond since she had first met him as a baby, helping Lily Potter ward their nursery to protect him from their enemy. He glanced towards her, waiting for a direction as his right hand slipped over his shoulder to curl around the hilt of his steel sword. While the silver was more for supernatural monsters, the combination of steel and bombs would be the only thing that could hurt a chort.

“This way,” Ciri murmured, her own steel sword in one hand while a Devil’s Puffball bomb was in the other. Geralt simply hummed in agreement as he ghosted after her, their feet not even stirring the grass or leaves on the ground as they went. The branches they slid past rustled slightly in their passing before quickly settling again, and despite the urgency of the situation, Geralt felt his blood heating in the face of a hunt, the possibility of a fight against a monster that he might not be able to defeat. 

The trail lead into a cave, and Geralt forced his pupils wider as he ducked inside, easily seeing in the gloom that this was less of a cave and more of a tunnel. He paused briefly, crouching down to examine the marks in the dry dirt, and he nodded once. Footprints just the right size for Hadrian were apparent, but from the slight drag to them, Hadrian was either exhausted or injured. There wasn’t any sign of the chort, but Geralt wasn’t willing to just dismiss it just yet. Those monsters didn’t get bored easily, not when it knew there was easy prey around, and Hadrian would make delightfully easy prey for it. Obviously, Hadiran waited in the tunnel for a while, possibly getting a second wind as the steps away from the central area were more sturdy than those at the entrance.

Upon exiting the tunnel, Geralt let his pupils relax back into a more natural state as he followed the tracks to the edge of a gorge where part of the edge had fallen off. Carefully, Geralt knelt at the edge and peered over the side. About halfway down, Hadrian lay on a ledge that was just big enough for an adult to stretch out on it, and Geralt realized that Hadrian had been in the tunnel long enough for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. When the boy had emerged into the light, he had been blinded and hadn’t seen the gorge. A few more seconds of study revealed the faint rising of Hadrian’s chest, indicating that the boy was still alive.

“Ciri, can you get him back to Kaer Morhen?” Geralt asked, moving back to look at her. 

“What about you?” she asked, sheathing her sword again.

“I need to track down that chort as well as find out how Hadrian managed to get out this far,” Geralt remarked, holding out his hand for her bombs, and she huffed softly in laughter as she passed them over to him. 

“Good luck on your hunt,” Ciri stated before a pale green light surrounded her and causing the air to warp where she stood. Then with the faintest of sounds, she was gone. Geralt didn’t need to hear the faint echo of the sound to know she had appeared on the ledge below, and by the time the third whisper rippled through the air, Geralt had already turned from the gorge to backtrack along Hadrian’s trail.

A mystery was nearly as exciting as a hunt after all.


	5. Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadrian's opinion of Yennefer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Considering how she treated Geralt in the books, it's easy to see their relationship as slightly toxic. Hadrian doesn't know everything, he only sees a portion of what is there.

Title: Her  
Author: Tazzy/Ladynero  
Fandom: Witcher/Harry Potter  
Characters: Harry Potter, Geralt of Rivia  
Genre: Crossover  
Word Count: 939  
Warning:Unbeta’ed

Yennefer of Vengerberg.

Hadrian couldn’t hate anyone or anything as much as he did that sorceress. Nearly as old as Geralt, she professed to love him as he loved her, but she turned around and broke Geralt’s heart time and again with how she would flutter through his life, throw orders, accusations, or opinions around, before flouncing off again in a cloud of lilac and gooseberries. Geralt tried to act as if her casual disregard for his feelings didn’t matter, but the evening after she left, Ciri was helping a very drunk and rather morose White Wolf to his room to actually sleep off the alcohol consumed.

(Just another argument that Witchers weren’t the heartless mutant monsters everyone claimed they were.)

There were times when Hadrian wished that Yennefer would just vanish, leave Geralt forever, and never cross his path again. Unfortunately, that would leave them with Triss Merigold for magical support when it was needed, and she was still trying to save the world using Witcher secrets. He’d say that girls were unnecessarily complicated, but Ciri was cool and so was Tessa. Maybe it was just sorceresses that were useless until they were needed to take down powerful magic.

He huffed a laugh as he continued to twist and jump from post to post, doing his best to avoid the large log with the blunt spikes designed to knock him off as it swung back and forth. Called the pendulum by Master Vesemir and the posts by the apprentices, he had to keep his concentration or risk being knocked off, either towards the wooden platform only a half a dozen feet below him or back towards the very long drop to the ground far below. 

Twist, crouch, flip, spin.

He knew he wasn’t suppose to be out here alone. “Training alone only reinforces bad habits,” Master Vesemir always grouched when he caught one of the apprentices on the posts by themself. But Hadrian wasn’t allowed at the training dummies again after he broke the third one with a wooden sword, and he wasn’t allowed to have live steel just yet. Not before his Hogwarts letter at least.

Upper block. Swipe across the chest. Side Block. Parry.

His muscles burned from the over exertion, but monsters weren’t going to give him a chance to rest and recover. His finger ached where they gripped the wooden sword, and yet, he was still furious at Yennefer of Vengerberg. She had shown up again earlier that day, and Geralt had gone to greet her as if she was the most delightful thing in the world. Hadrian knew that Geralt would be practically glued to her side the entire time even as she treated Ciri like some strange daughter. At least Ciri could see how destructive Yennefer was to Geralt, even if the White Wolf himself was more like a love sick puppy.

“Footwork!” snapped a voice out of the dark shadows, and Hadrian grunted as he shifted his footing after the next landing. He didn’t look over at the speaker, knowing he was going to be in serious trouble and might as well finish this round of forms. Another twist, spin, and block, and he back flipped down to the safe side of the posts, grimacing as his legs sent up a protest for his action. Looking up, he watched as Geralt emerged from the shadows dusk had thrown over Kaer Morhen, a frown on his face, his eyes glowing in the dim light, and his arms folded across his chest.

“It’s bad enough you were out here alone, but you were out here alone at dusk,” Geralt stated, his voice hard but Hadrian can hear the faint thread of worry in it, and he flinched. He hated to make Geralt worry. “If you had fallen from the posts, we wouldn’t have known until it was too late to do anything but collect your body.”

“I’m sorry,” Hadrian said, his voice soft as he tried to turn his attention to convincing his fingers to relax enough to let go of the sword. He grimaced as he massaged his forearm, but the tendons were tight and refused to relax. Hands rough with calluses picked up his arm and started a deep massage that had Hadrian hissing in pain but after a few minutes, he was able to uncurl his fingers and drop the wooden sword.

“Want to tell me why you’re out here trying to kill yourself?” inquired Geralt, crouching down to look at Hadrian. Hadrian briefly looked up into those glowing cat-eyes, wanting to tell how much he hated Yennefer and what she did to Geralt, but common sense had him biting his lip and shaking his head before he dropped his gaze to the worn boards under his feet. How could he tell Geralt how he felt about Yennefer when Geralt was blind to her actions?

“Right. Hot shower for you, and then report to our room,” Geralt stated, and Hadrian looked up to find Geralt had straightened up again to tower over him. “Tomorrow, you’re going to report to Ciri, confess what you were doing tonight, and accept any punishment she gives you without question. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Hadrian said with only a small pout. Ciri wouldn’t let him get away with anything or even ducking out of a punishment early. But he might be able to talk to her about Yennefer and how to keep her away from Geralt. 

Picking up his practice sword, Hadrian slowly made his way to his room, mind already whirling on possibilities to drive Yennefer off to help Geralt get over her.


End file.
